


what you’d do to me tonight

by narrativefoiltrope



Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: (but there are so many feelings there), Denial of Feelings, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Holidays, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Sex, Inspired by a Hozier Song, Rough Kissing, Snow, book 3 demo spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:27:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28303803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/narrativefoiltrope/pseuds/narrativefoiltrope
Summary: Your friends are a fate that befell meHell is the talking typeI'd suffer hell if you'd tell meWhat you'd do to me tonightmason attends wayhaven pd's annual holiday party as detective corinna kingston's date--and she provides some incentive for his good behaviour at the event.
Relationships: Detective/Mason (The Wayhaven Chronicles), Female Detective/Mason (The Wayhaven Chronicles)
Kudos: 17





	what you’d do to me tonight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DieRosenrot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DieRosenrot/gifts).



> this is a holiday gift for number one hozier stan, the incredible @DieRosenrot--corinna kingston is her detective. happy holidays, hope you enjoy! <3
> 
> thank you to @thenshe_appeared for reading and reviewing!

“I can’t fucking believe you roped me into this,” Mason snarked. The chill in the air was not helping his attitude: Snow fell lightly on him, each flake a pinprick on his exposed skin, and the breeze cut across his nose and cheekbones. He bowed his head, shoved his hands into his pockets, and moved closer to Corinna. 

She blew out an annoyed breath. “It’s not like it’s fun for me, either. The Wayhaven Police holiday party is not exactly my idea of a good time.” 

It was true that Corinna was not one for large gatherings; crowds made her anxious. Mason fucking hated them but he didn’t get panicky like she did. He’d agreed to come with her in part to make sure she had an easy out if it got to be too much—he’d told her so, but still, he wasn’t happy about dressing up in this goddamn ridiculous suit and having to play nice with her co-workers. Fuck, it would have been so much better if it was just the two of them, alone, in her apartment—

“You didn’t have to come with me.”

He looked over at her with a creased brow. There was something different about Corinna tonight. Not just that she had dressed up for the occasion, trading in her hoodies and jeans for a simple black dress—not that Mason gave a shit about what she wore, no; she fucking captivated him regardless—but there was a guarded look in her eyes that he hadn’t seen before.

Well, not since he fucked it up over the summer in the bakery. 

It was months ago now and he still wanted to kick himself when he thought about it: What he’d said, how she looked when she ran out. 

How she didn’t wait for him. 

They managed to move on, pretended it didn’t happen in order to preserve the good thing they’d had going, but things were…different now. Even if he—if _they_ —hadn’t said they were, both maintaining that this was just-for-fun no-strings-attached sex, what existed between them was somehow more than that (though what the hell it was, Mason still couldn’t say). Sure they were friends and yeah the sex was mind-blowing, but they also trusted each other implicitly, were comfortable with each other. 

But something shifted after that day. It was getting more difficult for Mason to pretend otherwise, finding it annoying to leave her or be without her in a way that he hadn’t experienced before.

Which is why he’d agreed to go to this fucking party in the first place. 

Mason yanked one hand out of his pocket and draped his arm around Corinna’s shoulders. “I don’t have to be here but you do, so.” He shrugged one shoulder before leaning down, pulling her closer to him, to rumble in her ear, “I’m not exactly one to leave you hanging, am I, sweetheart?”

He felt her shiver, heat flooding her body and painting her pale face a deep shade of red. “Shut _up,”_ Corinna muttered as she rolled her eyes, a gesture completely at odds with her physical response, but he caught the small smile playing on her lips. 

She wrapped an arm around his waist in return and they walked in comfortable silence for a few moments before she slowed to a stop, stepping out in front of him to make him stop too. There was a familiar glint in her dark eyes that he knew meant only good things for him. 

“You know,” she said, her voice taking on the sultry tone that drove him to fucking distraction, “I could make this evening worth your while.” Corinna closed the distance between them, biting her bottom lip. Her small hands ran up Mason’s chest and set him ablaze even through the layers of his suit. 

He’d always appreciated how upfront she was with what she wanted—especially since what she wanted was almost always what he wanted too (to be tangled in her sheets, fingers intertwined as he drew obscene sounds from her mouth, her arching underneath him in a desperate attempt to be closer— _closer)._

He smirked at her. “What did you have in mind?”

Corinna grinned at him wickedly as she grabbed his tie to pull him down to her level. She whispered—in great detail—everything she’d let him do to her after the holiday party. 

When she pulled away from him, Mason returned her grin with a wolfish one of his own. “You sure we have to suffer through this party first?”

She sighed. “Unfortunately, yes.”

Well, at least he had something— _many_ things, fuck—to look forward to. He wasn’t sure whether knowing what waited for him would make the evening go quicker or make it drag on, but he could work with the incentive of delayed gratification. Even the snow was less grating now, despite it falling more quickly. 

Corinna looked up, taking note of the heavier snowfall. “The venue is around the corner—we won’t be stuck in this for much longer.” Mason nodded. 

Although he wanted to get out of the cold, it was clear that Corinna would have rather stayed outside all evening: As they approached the door, he could feel her growing apprehension. A nervousness spread through her—her hands started to shake, her breath grew shallow, her pupils dilated—and he knew that she was dreading this much more than he ever could. He’d seen her like this before despite her attempts at hiding it; he knew what her panic attacks looked like, had helped her cope with them. 

“Hey,” he said gruffly, “look at me. Look at me.” She managed to drag her eyes up to his face. He put both hands on her shoulders—checking first that she was okay with the contact—and looked at her hard. “Breathe.” She did, dark eyes never leaving his. “You say the word and we’re out of here.” 

Corinna closed her eyes and gave a small nod. After a few moments, her pulse slowed and her breathing evened. The panic had subsided. When she looked up at him, he noticed a few snowflakes had taken up residence on her eyelashes and were falling onto her face. Without thinking, he reached out and brushed the back of his hand against her cheek, swiping the snow away. 

He felt her inhale sharply at the gentle touch. Despite the fact that they were barely touching, there was electricity where their skin met; something powerful and charged in a way that he couldn’t explain and wasn’t sure he wanted to. What he _was_ sure of was how close her mouth was, how soft her eyes were, how little space there was between them—how easy it would be to close that distance and taste her. 

“Wow you two are looking cozy,” a voice called out, thoroughly shattering whatever moment they had been on the verge of. Mason gritted his teeth and yanked his hand away from Corinna; he watched as a similar veil of annoyance descended on her face before she turned to locate the source of the voice. 

Behind her, the loud police officer—fine, _Tina,_ if he had to play nice tonight—approached them, a smug look plastered on her face. Her fluorescent green sparkly dress was an assault on Mason’s eyes. She folded her arms over her chest as her eyes flickered between the two of them. 

“Hey Tina,” Corinna said. “You’re looking…festive.” 

Tina shot what Mason was sure was supposed to be a winning smile at Corinna. “And you look lovely even if you look like you’re going to a funeral, as usual.” She turned her attention back to him. “Hi Agent.”

He nodded in acknowledgement, not trusting himself to offer any niceties. His first interaction and he was already annoyed by this evening. How the hell was he going to make it through this party? It was bound to be a fucking disaster. She should’ve brought Nate instead—he could talk to people without biting their heads off. But she had asked Mason so here he was. 

“Hope I wasn’t interrupting anything,” Tina ribbed, the grin on her face clearly implying she knew that she had definitely fucking interrupted something. What it was, Mason still couldn’t say, but it left a heavy feeling in his chest and he could growl at her for showing up and stopping him from finding out.

When it became clear that neither he nor Corinna were going to take the bait, the silence stretching out before them, Tina shot them one last shit-eating grin and said, “Well I’m freezing, so catch you in there.” She gave Corinna a squeeze on the arm as she walked into the cocktail bar.

“Sure you don’t just want to skip to the afterparty, sweetheart?” Mason asked. 

Corinna gave a low chuckle. “You have no idea.” She hooked an arm around his waist and steered him towards the entrance. “But be on your best behavior if you want to make it to that afterparty,” she whispered as they headed inside. 

It was a convincing enough argument for him to—not smile, but at least wipe the sneer from his face. He could do neutral for a few hours. Especially with that fucking incentive.

It was thankfully dark inside the cocktail bar: Low lighting—mostly provided by the flicker of a fire at the far end of the bar and strings of white fairy lights—softened the glossy black modern furniture, surprisingly upscale for such a small town. Cinnamon, leather, and smoke from the fire permeated the air but did not successfully mask the competing scents of cologne, perfume, sweat, and every type of alcohol and mixer swirling in glasses. Between the overwhelming smells and the sounds of increasingly loud conversations had over the instrumental music piped into the room, he could feel a migraine coming on. Perfect.

“Are you going to be okay? This isn’t too much for you?” 

Corinna’s dark eyes searched his face and something in his chest tightened. He swallowed the feeling, which proved much harder to do than handling the sensory overload. “I’ll be fine. Go shake some hands and kiss some asses so we can get out of here.” 

She studied him for a moment longer. “Alright. Go get a drink. I’ll see you soon.” Mason watched her head over to a busy corner of the bar where the captain, a severe-looking man, was speaking to a crowd of people. After the shit show that was the blood drive, he was not in any fucking rush to speak to him or the mayor again. 

Mason headed to the bar and ordered a beer. He was able to quietly finish his drink on his own, the only attention he received being the tipsy glances of partygoers made bold by alcohol (but thankfully not bold enough to approach him). Every so often, he’d catch Corinna’s eyes on him—secret glances that _definitely_ were not appropriate for a work event, steadily stoking the anticipation between them. Mason smiled lazily at the thought of what awaited him after.

He tried to release some of the tension in his shoulders as he ordered another beer. Maybe he could get away with not speaking to anyone all night; he could lean against the bar and continue to nurse his drinks in silence without interacting with any of Corinna’s colleagues or—

“It’s nice to see you again, Agent Mason.”

Fucking hell. 

He turned his head and saw a soft-looking man with white-blonde hair smiling at him. 

“Eric.” He couldn’t forget that dinner—the stilted conversation, the strained smiles, Eric’s husband watching Mason warily and clearly ready to run at any second—even if he wanted to (and yeah, he wanted to). At least the screaming children were not here tonight.

Eric’s face lit up at the use of his name. “Is this your first police department party as a partner?” He nodded over to where Corinna and Verda were speaking. 

Was Eric seriously trying to compare what Mason and Corinna were—were _not,_ they weren’t anything, not anything discussed or decided (even if he was willingly at this fucking party just because she had to be here, even if he didn’t like when she wasn’t around him)—to him and his husband? 

Mason tried to supress the sneer that threatened to curl back his upper lip. Wasn’t worth correcting—if that was what it was—or dragging himself into a conversation longer than necessary; plus, Corinna didn’t like people knowing the details of her private life and it wasn’t as if Mason was eager to share either. 

“You could say that I guess,” is what Mason eventually settled on. He took a long drink and tried to ignore the sparkle in the other man’s eye. 

Eric chuckled. “You get used to it. I’m sure Corinna won’t leave you hanging long. If she’s anything like Sol, she’ll want to leave early.” 

God, he couldn’t even relax around the only other supernatural at this fucking party since Eric was hellbent on discussing relationships (not like Mason and Corinna were in one—but there was that fucking twinge in his chest again, goddamn it). Mason ground his teeth before nodding tersely in place of a response. 

A few beats of silence passed between the two men. 

“Well, I’ll let you finish your drink in peace—I think I see Sol calling me over. Good to see you again.” Eric gave a small wave and left Mason alone—blissfully alone, once again—with his drink. 

He slinked over to a quiet corner of the bar, retreating to the shadows, and let himself openly watch Corinna from across the room. Her dress clung to every curve; it was almost strange to see so much of her on display instead of hidden under shapeless hoodies, but he was sure as shit not complaining as he drank her in. 

He heard her heart rate speed up before he saw her eyes on him. He smirked at her over the top of his beer bottle before very deliberately licking the rim and sticking his tongue in the neck. She raised an eyebrow at him before shooting him a smirk of her own and twisting ever-so-subtly—to everyone but him—to give him a better view of her cleavage. 

Fuck. He needed that dress on the floor, her legs on his shoulders, and his face between her thighs _now._ He was going to devour her as soon as they left this fucking party. After the hour plus of glances and teasing across the room, he didn’t care if they didn’t make it back to her place at this point.

The young officer from the station tapped Corinna on the shoulder, pulling her attention away from Mason. At least that exchange was a fun promise of things to come, a nice distraction from the fact that he was still in a suit, at a bar, surrounded by people who wouldn’t shut the hell—

“Ah how _wonderful!_ A member of Rebecca’s agency at our little holiday shindig!”

Fucking _seriously?_ Did he look approachable tonight or something? He was definitely not trying to—maybe he should’ve worn more eyeliner.

“Mayor Friedman.” If the conversation had ended there, it still would have been too goddamn long. 

The older man was practically giddy at his response, the waft of alcohol on his breath and the flush of red on his face only adding to the effect. The mayor shuffled on unsteady feet towards him and crowded his space. Mason’s hands twitched at his side involuntarily. 

“Where is the rest of your unit? I told Rebecca they were all invited,” the mayor slightly slurred.

Mason inhaled slowly through his nose, which was a mistake since the smell of brandy and sweat was enough to make him want to physically recoil. He fought the impulse. (He could not kill this man. He _would_ not kill this man.)

“They’re on assignment.” It was a lie, but one he hoped would shut down further prying into his presence. 

“Of course, of course, very important work that you all do,” said the mayor, nodding sagely as if he had any fucking clue about their line of work. 

Mason wondered how much longer he would have to endure the mayor. Nate was not here this time to stroke his ego and send him on his way, and Mason was not interested in attempting to do something similar. But the mayor kept looking at him expectantly, eyes gleaming. 

“Good evening, Mayor Friedman,” a familiar voice said behind him. He had heard her heartbeat approaching, but was relieved to hear Corinna anyway. She stepped up next to him, keeping an appropriate distance between them so the mayor would not question the nature of their relationship ( _not_ relationship, fuck). With her next to him, Mason felt some of the tension drain from him, the smells and sounds of the party fading to the background as he zeroed in on Corinna’s heartbeat.

“Detective Kingston! Where is your lovely mother?” Creepy bastard. 

Mason heard Corinna stifle a sigh. “She had to work this evening.” 

The mayor went through the same obsequious song and dance he performed for Mason moments before but for Corinna’s benefit this time. He could feel barely-contained annoyance radiating off of her the longer it went on. Mason caught her eye in the middle of the mayor’s monologue and raised an eyebrow—a question asking whether he should get them out of there; she shook her head “no,” but flashed him a grateful look. 

At the first pause in the mayor’s speech, Corinna politely but firmly said her and Mason’s goodbyes. Before he could reply, she began walking towards the exit. 

_Fuck_ that was hot. He appreciated when she stood up for herself, which was often when it came to setting work boundaries, but then? Shutting down the mayor and getting them the hell out of the party at the same time? He could have kissed her. 

So he did. 

As soon as they left the bar, he grabbed her hand and turned them down a small alleyway. Corinna seemed to read his mind and clutched at the front of his jacket, turning their already frenzied pace into a stumbling mess. He let out a low growl and backed her against the brick wall of the alley. She let out a quiet gasp while her hands roamed over his torso, up his arms, before tangling in his hair. She gently tugged his head down to her level; he went willingly. 

The kiss was fierce: All teeth and tongue clashing together, biting and pulling lips, panting breaths intermingling in the little space between them. It was messy with an edge of desperation that Mason couldn’t place. Maybe it was him thanking her for getting them the hell out of the party, maybe it was her relief at being alone finally—it didn’t matter. 

When they came up for air, Mason moved to cage Corinna in, hands on either side of her head against the wall. He leaned in close, his mouth against her ear. “So sweetheart, was my best behavior good enough to earn that reward?” 

She shivered. “I think so.”

“Then let’s get the fuck out of here and get you out of that dress.”


End file.
